neon heart and day-glo eyes
...in which meaghan will relate a few strange incidences that have happened to her in the past few days which will further affirm your belief that she truly is a dork.

while walking home from class on monday night, i looped down to the bus stop because i was walking with liz and ended up walking in front of res commons. staring up at the monstrosity that is glengarry, i stop in my tracks, point with my mouth agape and exclaim outloud to no one in particular: "holy crap would you look at that shrine!"

see, i have a bad habit of staring into windows that have no curtains. i mean, how much does it cost to invest in some blinds people. [hahahaha- you're also talking to the girl who never ever closes her curtains. i have them tied open to admit maxium light]. anyways, i know it's a bad habit and it's kind of... perverted? perverse? wrong? disturbing?... but it just happens. in looking up at glangarry, i saw this absolutely massive shrine to orlando bloom on the wall of some room. it had pictures of him fawning on the beach, that one of him in bed looking all come-hithery [i'd only come hither if it meant access to his phone book- look out hobbits and old old men!], and some of him all dolled up as the elf.

it even had lights around it.

i stood there for a good three minutes pondering this, and admiring the massiveness of the shirne. sure, like eight people looked at me, looked up at the building and then looked back at me with that 'what the hell is the crazy girl looking at?' face, but whatever. i was enthralled by the shrine.

the next strange occurance was actually a number of occurances, and not really so strange. just a bit different from my regular agenda.

now, i don't want to get all political and yell about war here, but, i kind of did last night. george w. was in town, and i felt that perhaps i should show him that i don't necessarily condone his actions in iraq.

[i came to the coherent conclusion through watching some people on the news that i'm not really anti-bush. i mean, the guy himself, although a total weener, i just can't say that i hate him. what i do not agree with at all are his policies and how he implements them. so i'm not anti-bush, i'm anti-bush policy, if that makes sense].

so down i go to parliament hill with kate to the candle-lit vigil for peace. i missed jack layton [damnit!] but caught the moving words of an american who deserted the army because he didn't condone the actions his country were ordering him to do. in the midst of his speech, a man walks up to me and kate, stuffs a pamphlet in our hands, and says "can you share?" kate and i nod, and then i look at what he's handed me.

endorsement for the canadian communist party. man, they find me everywhere.

next, we rally behind a banner [which is surprisingly hard-yet-easy to find. being that it's dark and there's like five thousand people around, it's difficult to see much of anything. easy because eventually it left and we just followed the masseswhich were following it.] the goal is to march into quebec to the museum of civilization where we will protest some more.

[that's right folks- here in ottawa we have inter-provincial protests! BAM.]

so over we go, yelling, holding our candles, chanting, cheering. i watch in awe as a man scales the traffic light post and scrawls an incomprehensible message on the back of the traffic light. a group to my left, wearing ponchos made out of old quilts, bang on their drums in time to the chants we're all yelling. a wagon filled with children passes me. a man strolls confidantly holding a sign that reads "peace out, motherfuckers."

[i am particulary enamoured with that one].

things remain relatively calm until we get to hull. the police have set up metal barracades to keep us well back from the building where bush is, and the riot gear is out in full force.

did they really think that a few measly metal fences would keep the angry mob back? i laugh at their defences: ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaa. so, after the pushing over of the barracade, the riot police come at us and we're at a stalemate. i watch as a few people scuffle with the cops, with a very pink individual leading the charge. [her pink wig... maybe hair? and gloves were very noticable. her outfit and choice of clothing reminded me of a certain someone].

overall though, the crowd stays relatively calm. when it becomes obvious that we'll not be getting any closer, kate and i slip back through the ranks and begin making our way back to ottawa. police are everywhere.

i notice that they've removed all the metal detail from the stone fence in front of parliament.

as i'm in bed much much later that night, the cold sheets doing nothing for my freezing cold toes, i pull out my mental to do list. finally- i can check off item number seven hundred and fifty four, section six point eight- march at night in an inter-provincial protest against war.

i feel so accomplished.